


Roses

by Sorkrath



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: M/M, Roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-23 22:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15616653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorkrath/pseuds/Sorkrath
Summary: Roses have always been Whizzer’s favorite flower, and Marvin gives them to him on three separate occasions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part of a three-part series. Hope you enjoy! Comments are greatly appreciated.

The small dining room table is set for two people. Everything is perfect: glasses, napkins and silverware all in their proper place, a bowl of fruit as the centerpiece. All neat and tidy and picturesque. Whizzer sits alone, picking at his food with a slight scowl on his face. His mind despises this routine that he’s somehow found himself trapped in. Whizzer gets home from work. Whizzer makes dinner. Whizzer sets the table and cleans up whatever Marvin has left strewn about. Marvin gets home and eats. They fight. They fuck. They sleep. They repeat. Tonight’s dinner is meatloaf and potatoes and salad. It’s nearly as bland as Whizzer’s day has been, so at least he can say it’s symbolic. 

This evening, though, something is slightly out of the ordinary: Marvin is nowhere to be seen. It’s nearly seven and he should have been home over an hour ago. He must be working late, Whizzer assumes. As the minutes tick by, his mood grows increasingly sour. He had wasted his evening cooking and Marvin didn’t even have the common courtesy to say when he would be home. Whizzer clears his plate and leaves Marvin’s on the table to get cold. It’s only a small revenge, but it’s something. After dumping the dishes in the sink, he retreats to the couch, curling up and casually flipping through a magazine. Just as he is beginning to settle in, he hears a key turning in the door and Marvin enters. He must see the displeasure written across Whizzer’s face, because he hesitates slightly before speaking.

“Sorry I’m late.” He sounds tired. “Work was hell.”

“Dinner’s on the table.” Whizzer responds curtly, returning to his magazine. “It’s probably cold. I already ate.”

This is part of the routine that Whizzer still enjoys. The fighting part. It’s like jabbing a stick into a hornets’ nest: dangerous but never boring. Marvin furrows his brow in annoyance.

“Would you mind heating it up or something? I’m exhausted.” He says, trying his best to sound civil.

“I’m exhausted, too.” Whizzer replies, setting his magazine to the side. “I’m not your housewife, Marvin. If you wanted that, you should have stayed with Trina.”

“Jesus,” Marvin runs his hand down his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?”

In a huff, he takes off his jacket, tossing it over the arm of the couch as he walks past Whizzer. Without another word, he sits down at the table and begins to eat. It is cold, but he’ll be damned if he gives Whizzer the satisfaction of seeing him go heat it up.

“Hey!” Whizzer snaps, grabbing the jacket and storming after him. “I’ve cleaned up enough of your messes today. Put your own clothes away or I’ll throw them out. They belong in a garbage dump, anyways.”

He holds the offending garment out at arm’s length as though it’s some disgusting, contaminated thing. Marvin simply rises to his feet, a cold smile on his face. He approaches Whizzer, grabbing him by the lapel.

“You know, you’re much prettier when you’re kissing me than when you’re nagging me.”

“No.” Whizzer says, pushing him away. “You smell like sweat. Take a shower and then we can talk about kissing.”

Marvin backs off and sits again, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. He has the same cold smile on his face, but there is also a glint of anger in his eye now.

“Fine, Whizzer. If you’re going to act like a child, then why don’t you just leave me alone? I’m not in the mood to fight with you right now.”

“What?” Whizzer says, letting out a bitter laugh. “I’m the one who’s being childish here? God, that’s hilarious. How about you grow up, Marvin?”

Before Marvin can react, Whizzer tosses the jacket at him and stalks off towards the bedroom. But, before he leaves, he hesitates.

“Maybe I will leave you alone.” He says, turning back to Marvin with a venomous glare. “Maybe I’ll go out tonight. Hit a couple bars. See what happens.”

Marvin grips the fork in his hand until his knuckles go white. But, when he speaks, his tone is entirely even and pleasant.

“Oh, good. That’s nice. But if you’re trying to shock me, you’re really going to need to be more creative. I already know you screw around with other guys behind my back.”

With a shrug, Whizzer grabs his leather jacket from a hook on the wall and puts it on, heading back towards the front door.

“Alright. I’m leaving, then.”

He hears a sharp bang behind him as Marvin slams his fork against the table.

“Stop it. Just stop.” Marvin snarls, rising to his feet and advancing towards front door as well.

He catches Whizzer by the wrist with a surprisingly vice-like grip and spins him around. 

“Stay here.” He means it to sound like a demand, but it comes out as more of a plea.

“Oh, so now you want me to stay. Get your hands off me.” Whizzer snaps. 

At that snide remark, Marvin feels his vision blur and his better judgement is eclipsed by pure anger. He shoves Whizzer violently, sending him stumbling backwards. His head hits the wall with a thud and he lets out an involuntary yelp of pain. Marvin freezes, instantly overwhelmed by a wave of regret and shame. It’s as if everything is going in slow motion. Why can he never control himself? Why does this always happen? The hurt, betrayed expression on Whizzer’s face only makes his heart sink further.

“You’re psychotic.” Whizzer hisses.

He wrenches the door open and bolts outside before Marvin has a chance to do anything.

“Shit. Whizzer, I didn’t mean…” He calls out, but Whizzer is already halfway down the porch steps and doesn’t stop to listen to him. “Just go. Whatever. I don’t care.” Marvin continues, talking to no one but himself now.

Whizzer makes it to the street corner before he finally slows down to think. He can feel his body trembling and he takes a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. A nauseating mix of adrenaline and anger and fear courses through him. He wants to hate Marvin. He wants to just march back into the apartment and pack all his things and leave for good. But he can’t do it. However much he wants to, he simply can’t hate Marvin. When Marvin holds him, the whole world seems so much smaller and safer. When Marvin says ‘I love you’, Whizzer believes it, and it makes him feel special and important in a way he’s never felt before. He can feel his eyes begin to well up with tears and he curses under his breath, blinking them away. Why did he let himself get so attached? 

He thinks about going to one of his usual bars and picking up the first attractive man he meets, just to prove that Marvin isn’t really that important to him. But that would be a lie, and he immediately abandons the idea. Doing his best to shove down the mess of emotions he’s feeling, he walks to a nearby payphone and dials the number of an old friend-a college roommate he’s kept in touch with. He explains he needs somewhere to sleep for the night. Much to his relief, she’s understanding and doesn’t ask many questions, so he makes his way to her house.

The night passes fitfully. Whizzer can’t help but replay the events of the previous evening over and over as he lies on his friend’s pull-out sofa. He rehearses in his mind all the things he wants to say when he sees Marvin again. He wants to yell at him and call him horrible names. He wants to apologize to him. He wants to slap him. He wants to hug him. But most of all, he wishes Marvin was curled up in bed next to him, sleepily wrapping his arms around his shoulders. It’s been so long since he’s fallen asleep without Marvin at his side, and it feels cold and lonely. In the midst of these thoughts, he finally drifts off to sleep.

The next morning, Whizzer bids his friend goodbye. He still has no idea what to say to Marvin, but avoiding him any longer won’t help the situation, so he decides to head back to their apartment. It’s only ten blocks away, so he walks. As he draws closer and closer, a surge of anxiety creeps up on him, tying his stomach in knots. What if Marvin doesn’t even want to talk to him? What if Marvin’s already made up his mind to kick him out? It certainly wouldn’t be the first ugly breakup Whizzer’s been through-so why is he afraid of that now? After what seems like an eternity, he finally reaches the apartment. He walks up the steps and knocks on the door, his heart racing. But he’s careful to not let any nervousness show on his face.

Marvin opens the door almost immediately. He’s already dressed, which is unusual for a Saturday morning. His expression shifts to one of genuine concern as soon as he sees Whizzer.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, stepping back to let Whizzer inside. “I was worried all night. I-I’m glad you’re back.”

Whizzer steps inside. He’s secretly overjoyed that Marvin was worried about him, but he can’t just forgive him so easily. Not yet.

“I’m fine.” He says, looking at Marvin warily. 

“Whizzer, listen,” Marvin continues, “I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was acting like an idiot.”

An apology. Whizzer is taken aback. He can count the number of genuine apologies he’s gotten from Marvin on one hand. Not that Marvin has gotten any more than that from him. Whizzer hesitates, swallowing his pride before he speaks. 

“Well, I was acting like an ass, too. So I guess we can call it even.”

Marvin lets out a small sigh of relief.

“Good.” He says. “I went out and got bagels, if you want one.” He adds, motioning towards the table where an array of bagels and toppings have already been set out.

“Wow, first an apology and now an apology breakfast. What’s gotten into you, Marv?” Whizzer says, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know.” He replies with a smile. “I guess I love you or something.”

And, for at least a moment, Whizzer feels like everything will work out. He drapes his arms around his boyfriend, kissing him on the jaw. They start putting together breakfast and chat and bicker, and the tension from the previous evening quickly fades. As they wait for the bagels to toast, Marvin rests his head on Whizzer’s shoulder and they stand together in a rare moment of silence. Just as Marvin begins to feel like he could happily stay in this position for the rest of his life, the bagels are done and they take them to the table. 

“Wait,” Marvin says suddenly, stopping before he sits down. “I nearly forgot...I’ll be right back.”

He hurries out of the room before Whizzer has a chance to question him. When he comes back a few moments later, he’s clearly hiding something behind his back.

“I got you something.” He says. “It’s incredibly cliché, so you have to promise you won’t laugh.”

“You...got me something? Like a present?” Whizzer asks, equal parts amused and perplexed. “Ok, I won’t laugh. What is it?”

Marvin looks almost embarrassed now. Nonetheless, he reveals a fresh bouquet of red roses, offering them to Whizzer.

“I just saw these on the way to get bagels, and I thought you might like them.”

In reality, he had gone nearly an hour out of his way to find a florist shop, but Whizzer absolutely does not need to know that.

“Oh.” Is all Whizzer can manage to say at first. He is never one to be at a loss for words, but now he has no idea how to respond. He finally recovers enough to take the roses and speak.

“Marv, these are lovely.”

“Well, you did say roses are your favorite, didn’t you?”

“You...you remembered that?” Whizzer asks, staring at Marvin in undisguised disbelief.

“Of course I did.” Marvin says with a smile. “Look, I may be a shitty boyfriend sometimes, but at least give me a little credit.”

Once again, Whizzer doesn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t be getting emotional over a bunch of silly flowers, but he can’t help it. The realization suddenly dawns on him that he’s never really been in a relationship long enough for someone to remember little details about him like that. He always runs away before that happens. Before people can really remember him. But not this time. Marvin remembers, and Whizzer isn’t entirely certain how he feels about that.

“Whiz, are you alright?” Marvin asks, sitting down next to him.

Whizzer nods. “I love you.” He says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I really do love you.”


	2. Chapter 2

These days, Marvin knows his way around the hospital better than his own apartment. He can navigate through the white, sterile halls in his sleep. Of course, that would imply that he sleeps, which he rarely does. Not anymore. On most days, he goes straight from work to check on Whizzer, sometimes not leaving until he has to head to work the next day. More and more, he avoids going home unless it’s absolutely necessary. He tells himself it’s simply because he wants to spend as much time with Whizzer as he can, but that’s only the partial truth. He is afraid to be on his own in the apartment. It feels terribly foreign and desolate and cold. When he’s alone there, the weight of his own thoughts is too much to bear, and they threaten to crush him completely.

He makes his way towards Whizzer’s hospital room, his shoulders hunched and his eyes staring blankly ahead. He holds a small vase of red roses clasped in his hands. When he reaches the door, he opens it as silently as he can, careful not to disturb Whizzer in case he’s resting. He steps inside and, for a moment, it does look as though Whizzer is asleep. But, as soon as he hears Marvin’s familiar footsteps, he stirs slightly.

“Hi, Marv.” He murmurs, keeping his eyes shut. His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Marvin asks. “I can come back later.”

“I can’t sleep.” He replies, shaking his head. “And it’s boring as shit in here. Stay.”

Marvin sits down in the chair by Whizzer’s bed. He takes his boyfriend’s hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. The corners of Whizzer’s mouth turn up in a small smile. Slowly, he opens his eyes. 

“I brought roses.” Marvin says, holding up the vase in his other hand. He forces himself to smile as well, although it doesn’t mask the exhaustion in his eyes. 

The bedside table is practically overflowing with various gifts that people have brought, but Marvin manages to make room for the roses and sets them down. 

“They’re beautiful. But what’s the occasion?” Whizzer asks. 

“Does there have to be an occasion? I thought they’d make this place look less depressing.” 

“Thank you.” Whizzer says. “I love you.”

He speaks with such sincerity that Marvin is overwhelmed by a sudden pang of deep sadness. They tell each other ‘I love you’ every chance they get now, but lately the words sound more and more like a goodbye. As if each time they say it might be the last chance they get. It’s too much weight for three words to carry. 

“I love you, too.” Marvin says.

His voice wavers slightly as he fights back the lump forming in his throat. There is no point in crying now. He needs a distraction, so he busies himself tidying up the bedside table, trying desperately to bury his feelings. It works, at least temporarily. 

Whizzer closes his eyes again and lies still. In the dim light, he looks almost like a statue. His gaunt face and ghostly-pale skin could be carved from marble. The only sign he’s made of flesh and blood at all is the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Whizzer was never one to tolerate stillness. He was the athlete. The one who rarely had the patience to read more than a short magazine article and who couldn’t sit through a movie. Now, he can scarcely sit up in bed without his body forcing him to rest. It’s an almost poetically cruel irony. 

Marvin keeps fussing with the things on the table, putting a deck of cards back in its case and picking up a stray chess piece that Jason must have left behind on one of his visits. Finally, Whizzer stops him.

“Leave it alone, Marvin. It’s fine. Come here.” He says, patting the bed next to him.

Marvin obliges, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He absentmindedly runs his fingers through Whizzer’s hair, brushing it away from his face.

“Are you ok?” Whizzer asks, looking up at Marvin. 

“Yeah,” He responds after a pause. “I’m alright.”

“Marvin…” Whizzer says, frowning. “You don’t need to lie to me. You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”

Marvin is silent. He slumps forward, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Hey…” Whizzer lets go of Marvin’s hand. “Marv, you can talk to me.”

“I-I don’t know.” Marvin says, letting out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what to say.”

That, at least, is not a lie. Marvin’s brain is an indecipherable mess of sorrow and anxiety and bitterness that he couldn’t begin to put into words even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t want to. He just wants to plaster a convincing smile on his face so Whizzer will stop worrying about him. How dare he make Whizzer worry about him when Whizzer’s the one wasting away in a hospital bed? But, he has to say something. Even sick, Whizzer is stubborn, and it’s clear he’s not going to let this go.

“I guess I’m not ok.” Marvin admits quietly. “This...this is all fucked up. And unfair. And there’s nothing I can do.”

He collapses even further, resting his face in his hands. Whizzer is slightly taken aback by Marvin’s sudden honesty, but he quickly recovers. 

“Maybe that’s true.” Whizzer replies. “It is unfair. But, you know, it’s not all terrible. We’re here together. The roses are beautiful. That’s not terrible. Everything might be going to hell, but not right now.”

Marvin nods slowly. He brings his legs up onto the bed and lies down. Gently, he wraps his arms around Whizzer, holding him close. Whizzer returns the gesture and they both cling to each other. It seems as though their lives depend on it. As though they are adrift on a raft in the middle of the sea.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Marvin repeats, burying his face in Whizzer’s chest.

His eyes begin to well up with tears, and this time it’s not so easy to fight them back. His shoulders begin to tremble. Finally, he gives in and lets himself cry. Whizzer rubs small circles into his back until his breathing begins to calm.

“I’m sorry.” Marvin sniffles, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“Don’t apologize.” Whizzer says softly. 

For what seems like an eternity, neither of them move. Marvin shuts his eyes, just listening to Whizzer’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm makes everything feel calmer. Safer. He wishes desperately that this moment really could last for an eternity. He could just hold Whizzer forever and nothing would ever change. Nothing awful would happen. Everything would be fine. They could just stay frozen in this moment until everything crumbles to dust. But then, Whizzer lets Marvin go, shattering the fantasy.

“You know,” He says, looking at Marvin’s tear-stained face. “You don’t have to stay here. Why don’t you go home? Get some sleep?”

“What? Whizzer, I want to be here. Of course I’m staying.” Marvin pauses before adding, “Unless you want me to go.”

“No, no, I just…” Whizzer falters. “I feel guilty, I guess. If I were in your place, I’m not sure I could do it. I don’t know if I could watch you dying.”

Dying. Marvin recoils at the word. He wants to say that Whizzer is not dying. That Whizzer could still get better. But that would be foolish. The time for false optimism is long past. 

“You’re still here. We’re both still here.” Marvin says. “And whatever time we have left together, I wouldn’t miss a minute of it for the entire world. I’m staying here as long as you want me to.”

“Thank you.” Whizzer whispers.

There is nothing else to say, and so they lie still. They hold each other. Everything else seems to vanish and the weight of the world is lifted, if only for a moment.


	3. Chapter 3

“Marvin?” Trina asks again. “Marvin, did you hear me?”

She glances over at him as she drives, her brow furrowed. He says nothing, staring out the passenger window listlessly, watching as the buildings go by. A bundle of roses rests in his lap. 

“What?” He finally replies, his voice distant and cold. 

“I just…” She hesitates, anxiously drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “I was wondering if you wanted to talk.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes how stupid and empty they sound. But what is she supposed to say? How is she supposed to know how to handle a situation like this?

“I don’t know.” Marvin says, shaking his head. “What is there to talk about?”

“Alright.” She sighs. “But I’m here, if you ever do need someone to talk to. I want you to know that.”

If Marvin hears her, he doesn’t acknowledge it, and they drive in silence for a while. It’s a tense, unpleasant silence, and Trina considers turning on the radio, but that seems inappropriate. So, she focuses on the road. She focuses until she absolutely can’t stand the quiet anymore.

“I hope you don’t think I hated him.” She blurts out.

She looks slightly stunned, as though she hadn’t intended to say that out loud. Marvin takes his eyes off the window and turns towards her. Before he has a chance to figure out how to respond, she continues.

“I didn’t hate him. I could never hate Whizzer.” She says. “Even if I sometimes wanted to. He was a part of this screwed up family, and he always will be. And I-I just want you to know I really did care about him.”

“Thank you.” Marvin replies, a faint smile spreading across his face.

In the years they had known each other, he had never once heard Trina refer to Whizzer as family. Not until now. For a fleeting moment, Marvin is filled with joy. He had created a family. Perhaps an irreparably broken, dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. And, in the end, that is all he had really wanted. However, joy quickly turns again to grief as he glances down at the bouquet of roses. Yes, he had created a family, but now part of that family is gone. Now everything is unravelling.

“I regret that I didn’t get to know him better.” Trina says, as much to herself as to Marvin.

She can feel a lump rising in her throat, but she resists the temptation to fall apart. If she just stares straight ahead, maybe the feeling will pass. 

Marvin looks at her. “I know he felt the same way.”

“Really?” She asks, genuinely surprised. 

He nods slowly. “Whizzer brought it up to me a couple times. I know he regretted not spending more time with you.”

“I...I never knew that.” Trina fumbles, struggling for words. “I guess I always assumed he didn’t want much to do with me. Not that I could blame him-I certainly wouldn’t want to be friends with my lover’s ex-wife.” 

“I don’t know.” Marvin says. “Even if he wouldn’t admit it, I think he blamed himself for our divorce. For splitting up the family. I don’t think he was ever really sure how to approach you.”

Trina sighs again, running a hand through her hair.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t blame him. For a long time, I did. I suppose that was easier than admitting our marriage was doomed from the start.” She lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “It all seems so petty now, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” He replies, looking at the roses with sad, exhausted eyes.

Once again, they lapse into silence. But this time it is not uncomfortable. It is a sort of melancholy, thoughtful silence. By now, the buildings have given way to trees and grass as they reach the outskirts of the city and leave it behind. Trina turns off onto a small road as they near their destination. Once again, Marvin stares out the window. He looks lost, as though he is focused on something a million miles away. 

“Marvin,” Trina’s voice is soft and gentle, “I really did mean what I said. If you ever need someone to talk to, you know I’m here.”

“Thank you.” He is pulled back to reality. “Thank you for driving me. Thank you for everything.”

“Of course.”

Trina pulls into a small parking lot. They can see the grassy hills of the cemetery now. After she parks, neither of them make a move.

“Should I wait here?” Trina asks.

Marvin nods. With a deep breath, opens the car door and steps outside. He grasps the flowers in his hands as though his life depends upon it. A cobblestone path stretches out in front of him and he begins to walk, his legs unsteady. He knows the way by now, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Each step feels like a monumental effort. As he continues his journey, he passes clusters of gravestones, some old and crumbling and some new. The older ones seem almost as though they are a part of the landscape now, as if they had organically risen out of the grass. There is something both comforting and frightening about the fact that, someday, even the stone that marks where you are buried will disintegrate and return to the earth.

Eventually, he reaches Whizzer’s grave. A solitary, unassuming headstone. Marvin sits down in front of it. His hands tremble and he feels slightly sick to his stomach, but he doesn’t cry. He can’t. He almost wants to cry. To yell. To collapse. But his tears have already been spent. Instead, he places the roses in front of the grave. He looks at the stone as though it has answers. As though if he just sits here long enough, everything will start to make sense again. The gaping hole in his heart will begin to close. Of course, nothing changes. 

What he wouldn’t give just to hear Whizzer’s voice again. To hear Whizzer laugh at him and tell him to stop moping around in a graveyard. Whizzer would tell him that he was going to ruin his pants with grass stains. That he should just go home. But Whizzer is nowhere to be found, so Marvin doesn’t move.

As time passes, his thoughts turn darker. Whizzer’s grave will not remain solitary for long, and Marvin is well aware of this. There is no longer any question that Marvin is sick, too. Only he and Charlotte know-he had firmly insisted that she tell no one. But now, as he sits on the spot where his own grave may soon be, he realizes that he has to talk to somebody. There is only so long he can blame his constant tiredness and lost weight on grief. But, more than that, he wants to tell someone. He wants someone to comfort him. To care about him. To be frightened with him. 

With that, he makes a decision. He will tell Trina. He will try to work up the courage to tell her on the car ride home. A small weight seems to lift from his chest. He takes a rose from the bouquet and smells it. For a moment, he closes his eyes, taking in the sound of the rustling leaves and the birds and the rose’s sweet scent. Then, he sets it back on the ground and rises to his feet. Slowly, he begins to make his way back to the car.

“I’ll see you soon.” He says as he turns away from the grave. 

As he walks, the words to an old song his father used to play for him fill his mind:

_They buried him in the old churchyard,_  
_They buried her in the choir_  
_And from his grave grew a red, red rose_  
_And out of hers, a briar._  
_They grew and grew to the steeple top,_  
_Till they could grow no higher_  
_And there they tied in a true love’s knot  
_Red rose around green briar.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made a couple small edits to this. I also thought I'd include a link to the song I used at the end (even though it's really only the last verse that's relevant). So here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NqHJ4V893e0


End file.
